


When Words Don’t Come Easy

by OneStarryNight



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Communication is Sexy, Crying, Cuddles, Cunnilingus, Dissociation during sex, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Internalized Misandry, Missionary Position, Oral Sex, Orgasm, Porn, Rape/Non-con Elements, Riding, Rough Sex, Smut, Unprocessed Sexual Trauma, Vaginal Sex, intimate sex, pressured into sex, talking about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29054538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneStarryNight/pseuds/OneStarryNight
Summary: It must be all that time spent out on the waste she reasons; that’s why he can’t get it up by himself. If he’s like every other man she’s known he’s embarrassed by his lack of hardness in this moment. She decides to spare his feelings by not commenting and just pressing on. His body will catch up in good time.Furiosa and Max have sex and she misses all the signals that he’s not into it. Warnings for non-con
Relationships: Furiosa/Max Rockatansky
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26
Collections: Mad Max Kink Meme





	1. When Words Don’t Come Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this Mad Max Kink Meme prompt: “Something slightly darker. Furiosa doesn't notice Max is hesitant. He never says 'no' outright. Just a tiny hum of protest or a cut-off fumbling sentence or just a peculiar stillness. She might as well have imagined it. Or maybe she does notice. And if so; maybe she stops, maybe she doesn't. I just want a dubcon situation played out in any way you can imagine it. Furiosa not realizing until half-way through and then feeling rly bad about it, that whole staring-into-the-abyss-shtick hah. Or maybe she does know, but pretends not to, lies to herself maybe. Or not noticing in the middle of it but piecing it together afterwards bc Max's nervous glare and tiny flinches. Just anything you can think to make it effed up.” https://madmaxkink.dreamwidth.org/450.html?thread=113090
> 
> Please read the tags and note the warnings. This fic contains nonconsensual sex (i.e., rape) in graphic detail. Please don’t read if this makes you uncomfortable. The non-con is in Chapter One and the next three chapters contain the emotional aftermath and makeup sex.

Max has become a semi-regular sight at the Citadel by the time she asks him. He’s been back a few times now, coming every three months or so and staying for about a week. They seem to spend most of their time together when he is here, in the garages or out on the turrets watching the wasteland. She didn’t have time out on the road to think of Max sexually, there were too many other pressing concerns. But now, back in the security of the Citadel with only occasional threats arising from the outside, she’s had the time to concluded that yes, she wants to have sex with him.

So, the next time he drives in she asks if he wants to fuck the first chance she gets when they're alone. He looks startled but agrees, and she leads him back to her room that evening. Furiosa believes in getting right to the point with most things in life and sex is no different. Accordingly, as soon as the door is latched behind them she starts to strip, pulling her clothes off as quickly as possible. She hears a tiny gasp from Max and looks up to see his head turning away as he blushes.

She laughs, and it probably comes out more harshly than she means judging by the way he flits his eyes towards her and back. She’s out of practice when it comes to laughing, so she smiles brightly instead. “Come on Max, you can look. This is what we’re here for, right? Here, let’s get your clothes off.” She makes a motion as though to help him, but he takes a half step back. Well, maybe he’s shy still, that’s fine. Furiosa turns to the side and concentrates on getting her prosthetic off in order to give him a little privacy.

Once she has that put away she looks at Max who is standing naked, hands twitching at his sides as if he wants to grab something. Her no doubt, and she gives him a wolfish grin as she looks him over. He’s perfect, broad and sturdy, his upper body tanned while his lower half is pale below his trouser line. He’s not hard, but the sight his cock makes her mouth water all the same and she can already imagine him in her.

She hasn’t realized she’s been walking towards him and he’s been stepping back until his back hits the door and she’s suddenly right in front of him. She rubs her hand on his chest, catching a nipple between her fingers and smiling when he inhales sharply. She does it again and then moves her hand lower over his stomach until she grips his cock and gives him a hard, dry stroke. Max wiggles against the door and lets out a questioning hum high in his throat. She looks up at him and realizes he must have just licked his lips because they’re wet and red and thick, and she can’t understand why her mouth hasn’t been on them this whole time.

Furiosa lets go of Max’s cock and grabs the back of his head, fingers twisting into his hair as she pulls his face to her. It’s a rough kiss, full of spit and hard pressure, full of promise of something more. She backs them towards the bed and falls onto it, pulling Max on top of her. His hands aren’t touching her, resting on the bed instead and he starts to push away with a murmur that’s probably a word trapped between their lips.

He’s probably going to say something infuriating like asking if she’s okay, act like she’s some feeble woman who can’t handle her own beside him. She doesn’t want confirmation that he thinks her weak, so she just grips his scalp harder and bits down on his bottom lip, waiting him out until he stops resisting and kisses her back, until he understands that she wants this. He doesn’t go slack exactly but he stills, not moving a muscle as she plunders his mouth.

Eventually she pulls him back to take in a breath and they both gasp in lungfuls of oxygen. He looks dazed, his hair all awry and his lips glistening and swollen red. Combined with the way his chest is heaving and he’s looming over her she feels a rush of wetness between her legs, and realizes she needs him _in_ her. “Damn, you’re so good Max, you know that?” She says it with a breathless laugh, gazing at him.

“Furi-“ He cuts himself off as she pushes him to the side and rolls them over so he’s on his back and she’s straddling. She kisses him again and works her hand down to pinch him nipple.

“This okay?” she croaks out, and starts to move her hips over his in search of some pressure. She closes her eyes at the sensation and almost misses Max’s choked out “Ah!” He no doubt is just as ready to move on as she is. She braces herself on his chest with her stump and moves her hand down to grasp his half hard cock and guide him to her entrance.

It must be all that time spent out on the waste she reasons; that’s why he can’t get it up by himself. If he’s like every other man she’s known he’s embarrassed by his lack of hardness in this moment. She decides to spare his feelings by not commenting and just pressing on. His body will catch up in good time.

She guides him in and sinks down on him fully. Her eyes close as she relishes the fullness and feels Max shudder beneath her. Now he’s getting it she thinks. He really is like all the other men she’s had once you get past all the fumbling barriers. This is so good, arousal thrumming through her veins and she wonders why she’s only now gotten him into bed with her.

Furiosa is pretty sure the only thing better than sex is sex with someone you don’t think will kill you. And yes, there’s a certain edge of adrenaline that comes with being in that situation, the fight for control that makes release so sweet. But it's still better to do it with someone you know has your back, that you can trust. Also with someone who’s cock isn’t lined with the lumps and bumps of a half-life. Both of these things make Max the best sex Furiosa’s had in a long time.

He’s fully hard now inside her as she’s riding him fiercely. It’s delicious being able to actually close her eyes and focus on the sensation of him inside her, feel his thickness as she clenches around him. Max makes a soft cut off noise and she grins to herself. He’s still too much in his head, hasn’t started to just let go and feel yet. She moves faster, harder, hoping the increased friction helps him get there. Furiosa has had sex with many men and found that keeping it short and rough is usually the best policy. Give them what they want and try and get yourself off in the processes.

She can feel her own release coming on, but she’ll need direct pressure on her clit for that to happen. She opens her eyes intending to redistribute her weight so she can get her hand on herself, but it’s then that she notices that Max isn’t holding her, grabbing her, thrusting up into her. His arms are lying by the bed and he’s staring at the celling just past Furiosa’s left shoulder. She frowns to herself. She didn’t intend for him to get _this_ lost in his head. Sure, sex is for letting loose, but it’s also supposed to be experienced and it doesn’t look like Max is doing that.

She decides to help him get reengaged in what they’re doing and grabs his wrist to move it towards her cunt. She’s pressing on his hand now, getting her friction from him, but he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it now that she’s got his hand where it needs to be. No doubt it’s been a while since he’s had a woman and he’s simply out of practice. She can’t ask him about it now though, the pressure is making her own orgasm start to build like a fire in her belly. His hand and cock are the fuel she needs, and she can’t stop.

Her whole body is a hot throb of desire and her mind has been reduced to a sole chant “yes, yes, yes, yes…” Part of her wants to stay like this forever but more of her is screaming to come right fucking now-. And then it’s there, she’s clenching her hand over Max’s, her cunt over his cock. Her orgasm is like a cleansing fire, rushing through and purifying her body, her mind of all else. She might be shouting, but she can’t be sure, can’t be sure anything except the light show behind her eyelids.

Eventually she comes out the other side, both hand and stump braced on Max’s chest as she waits for her head to stop buzzing. She slides off him onto the bed and lies there breathing deeply, staring at the ceiling. _Fuck_ , she hasn’t come like that in… well, if she has ever, it’s been a damn long time. She shudders with a fading aftershock and wonders how soon she can come again. Not that hard probably, Furiosa doesn’t believe in miracles, but again. Hopefully Max can…

Max. She turns her head to look at him, can’t believe she forgot for a minute he was even here. (What can she say, it was a damn good orgasm, he should be proud if anything.) She stares for a moment and then sits up.

He’s still looking at the ceiling and his breathing seems off. Not the hard and deep breaths of the recently fucked, but the short shallow inhales of someone who’s panicking. He’s not making any movement to touch or finish himself off; in fact, his erection seems to have faded, leaving his cock flaccid against his thigh. Furiosa frowns and starts to feel a stirring of unease in her gut. Is he sick or something? He seemed totally healthy this afternoon. “Max? Max?” He doesn’t respond until she gives his shoulder a shake, and then he starts with a jolt. “You okay there?”

He looks at her briefly and then away. “I, uh…” his voice drifts away as his gaze moves downwards his own body, and she follows him to look at his limp cock. She suddenly feels a swell of anger, hot and defensive. He’s going to say it’s her fault he couldn’t keep it up, act like there’s something wrong with her. And there’s _not_ , it’s not fault, she’s _fine_ , there’s nothing wrong with her, she’s not defective. He can’t say that, can’t make it her fault, she won’t let him.

She has to do what she always does, take control of the situation before it overwhelms her. She grabs his cock, gripping tighter than is probably necessary and stroking. She’ll show him. For all his goodness, his bravery and loyalty, she knows he’s just like all the other men. He’ll resent her if she doesn’t get him off, he’ll blame her. She can’t let that happen.

Furiosa has every intention of finishing him off with her hand, maybe even using her mouth if necessary. But now that she’s not actively fighting for her pleasure, she notices Max spasm beneath her and let out a quiet whine. It doesn’t…seem right, so she pauses he movements as she looks to him. He’s looking at her this time and not the ceiling, but breathing has picked up to become too quick and shallow. His pupils are dilated but somehow she doesn’t think it’s from arousal. Something’s wrong, and the unease in her gut returns, extinguishing the anger as quickly as it came.

“Max? What’s wrong?” Nothing for a moment, but she can see him try and get his breathing under control. “Do you not want me to go on?” His eyes are everywhere now except her face but he’s still not saying anything. She lets go of his cock, letting it fall back between his legs. “Do you want me to stop?”

He looks… embarrassed? Guilty? He licks his lips and there’s definitely a tremor in his voice as he says “I, mm, I just… I don’t…”

The unease in her gut morphs into full blown nausea and she finally comprehends. He doesn’t _want_ this, her touching him. Not like this, maybe not at all. Did he want her on him? Kissing him? Seeing him naked? Did she- fuck _no_ , please no – did she force him to somehow?

“Did you not want this?” she cries, her voice dangerously close to a wail. The way he he winces at the sound and seems to try and curl in on himself tells her everything she needs to know. She’s going to be sick, what has she done, how did this happen?

Later, Furiosa will return to this moment over and over in her mind, considering from every angle what she should have done. She should have taken a deep breath, gotten up to get dressed calmly, let Max get dressed, and let him leave if he wanted or sat and talked with him like a reasonable adult.

But instead the guilt she sees in Max’s eyes is too much, like he blames himself for her actions somehow. She can’t face him, can’t take the judgement she projects into his eyes, even though there is none actually there. She leaps from the bed and almost heaves her dinner onto the floor. She grabs her robe, closing her ears to the faint “Furi” directed at her, and without a backward glance at Max still on her bed she runs from the room.


	2. When Thoughts Start to Surface

Furiosa doesn’t sleep well that night. After leaving her room she just wants to walk through the Citadel, wander until her mind clears. But it’s a cold night and she has nothing on besides her robe. So she goes and knock on Mari’s door. It’s not too late so Furiosa isn’t terribly guilty about the intrusion. Honestly her brain doesn’t have the capacity to feel much more guilt than it already does.

Mari doesn’t question when Furiosa asks if she can sleep here, just busies around creating a makeshift cot on the ground. The Vuvalini knows how to read people and can probably tell that Furiosa is not in the mood, or capable of explaining herself. The lights are turned off shortly, but Furiosa can’t sleep, twisting around on the floor with a racing mind. She’s starting to feel guilty about leaving Max now, and she doesn’t know what to do. Should she go back? He didn’t want to have sex with her, so why would he want to talk, or even see her?

Will he _ever_ want to see her again? Does he hate her? Furiosa’s heart goes cold at the thought. No, that can’t happen. She can never have sex with him again, maybe even never speak with him again, but she doesn’t know how she’ll get through the rest of life knowing Max hates her.

She must doze off at some point, because the early morning sun wakes her up from a sleep that feels more draining than restful. She dithers for a while, not wanting to go back to her room in case Max is still there, and yet not wanting to be here when Mari wakes up. Eventually she leaves, slipping away quietly and trying to get to her room without being seen.

It’s empty, all signs of Max gone. He made her bed though, and she stares at the unrumpled sheets while resisting the urge to hit something. She doesn’t know if she should try and find him, if he wants to find her. They should probably talk, but Furiosa doesn’t know about what. She gets dressed, trying not to look at her bed, imagine Max in it last night. Tries not to imagine him straightening it out before he left.

~~~~~

She skips breakfast where Max is sure to be and heads to the medical unit. Normally she’d be in the garages, but today is already not normal. She lets herself be assigned some tools that need cleaning and gets to it. She’s trying to loose herself in the repetitive work but it’s hard when her eyes snap to the door every time it opens, and she can’t decide if she’s relieved or disappointed that he hasn’t come to find her.

Mari comes in an hour or so later and after making the rounds, comes over to the far corner where Furiosa is sitting and pulls up a chair. They make small talk about the tools and the proper cleaning procedure for a while, and Mari starts to help her. They sit in silence for a few moments until Mari says in a falsely casual tone “I was surprised to see that Max has left already. He only got here yesterday.”

Furiosa freezes and stares at Mari. “He’s gone?” He can’t be. Why did he leave without talking to her? Maybe he does hate her and never wants to see her again. She can’t decide if she’s furious or miserably sad. Probably both, if such a thing is possible.

Mari is watching her carefully, but keeps up the pretense of a casual conversation as she continues to polish her tools. “Yes, heard at breakfast that he left at first light. Filled up his tank and fanged it east they said. Rather odd, he’s never only stayed one day before.” Her eyes meet Furiosa’s with piercing perception and she asks “Do you know if everything’s alright? You’re closer to him by far than anyone else here.”

Furiosa forces herself to inhale a breath. She doesn’t want to say, wants to lie and act like she has no idea, but Mari will figure it out, someone’s bound to have seen them going to her room. Maybe she already knows, already has an idea of what’s happened. “We… went back to my room last night. I- it didn’t work out. I left. Then he left.”

“I’m sorry dear,” Mari says softly. “Would it help to talk about it? Sometimes just letting it out, having someone else listen can be helpful.”

Furiosa doesn’t believe it will actually, and is afraid of saying anything in case Mari realizes what she’s done, but she blurts it out before she can stop herself. “Why wouldn’t someone want to have sex after they said they did?”

Mari’s eyes widen slightly and her movements still. Furiosa realizes with a rush of shame that she’s probably putting together what pieces she has and concluding that Max tried to force her or made her uncomfortable. She ducks her head and focuses on her tools. She should clarify, say that Max did nothing wrong, but she’s a coward and can’t bear the thought of Mari knowing what she did, how terrible a person she is. The guilt piles on higher.

“There are lots of reasons people change their minds about having sex.” Mari has gone back to her own tools, and neither is looking at the other. “They might realize that they’re just not ready for it at this time when they thought they were. Or a bad memory comes up and they’re no longer interested. Could be their partner makes them feel uncomfortable or unsafe somehow. Or could just be there was a miscommunication at the beginning about what type of sex they were going to have, and they’re really not up for what their partner wants.”

Furiosa wonders if one of these reasons is why Max didn’t want to. “What do you mean type of sex? It’s all the same right? I’m mean if the partner is the same how can it be different?”

Mari looks at her curiously. “Goodness no girl, there are many types, or I should say ways, of having sex, even with the same person. There’s hard and fast, slow and sweet. Mindless fun and intimate connection. There are different positions that feel different for different people, and that can change depending on the relationship and mood. One person can think they should have sex rough and the other think it should be slow, so if there’s a disconnect people can change their mind. It’s not wrong, it just means you have to talk about what you’re feeling and what you want.”

Furiosa nods, acting like she understands, although most everything Mari is saying is foreign to her. What does slow, intimate sex even look like, feel like? Has she ever done it in any way beside rough and quick, trying to fight you partner for your release, use them as much as they use you? Does Max know how to do it that way? She wonders if that’s what he wanted but couldn’t say.

Mari is silent, and they go back to their work. Between the two of them the tools are all cleaned in short order. Mari stretches as she stands, making a show of getting ready to leave and Furiosa packs everything away, ready to head out herself. “Is there anything else you want to ask me my Furi?”

Her expression is soft and gentle, contain neither judgment nor pity, and Furiosa feels a sudden ache to unburden herself to her. But she merely shakes her head and offers a soft thanks before heading towards the door. Max is the person she needs to talk to. It wouldn’t be appropriate to share this with anyone else without his permission. She’ll just have to wait and see if he comes back.

~~~~~

A month goes by, and there’s no sight of Max. This would be expected if he had left under normal circumstances, but Furiosa still can’t shake the fear that she’s seen the last of him. It would be impractical for him to never return, the Citadel is too valuable and friendly a haven to abandon forever. But he might refuse to see her when he returns. And can she blame him?

Sometimes Furiosa can. Some evenings when she stares into the sunset, her mind turns over and over on itself, and she can’t stop the despair from welling into resentment. Resentment at Max, for not stopping her, for saying yes and then meaning no, for making her what she is now, a label she’ll have to carry around like an invisible brand. Resentment for her guilt, her worry for him, her fear of herself.

It’s worse some evenings when she’s lying in bed alone, needy and wanting to get herself off. She’ll start with her mind blank, but Max has been a fantasy from before they had sex, and her mind always returns to him. The moment it does it feels like someone just punched her in the gut, and she can’t continue, can’t think of Max that way, not now. And then she’ll feel angry while her body clenches with arousal that she is both desperate and terrified to appease. How dare he take this from her, how dare he wrap her in vines of guilt and shame that she can’t untangle even to give herself the most basic kind of relief?

And then she’ll cry, tears of frustration and pain, tears for Max and the hurt she’s caused him. And tears for herself, for her own loss in a way, for the culpability weighing her down so heavily sometimes it hurts to breath. She hasn’t cried like this in years, if ever, and she doesn’t know how to stop, how to heal.

She needs to talk to Max. She knows this now and is so angry with herself for leaving him alone, letting him get away before this could be resolved. She still isn’t sure what she’ll say, how it will go. But she knows she can’t continue like this. Whatever they decide, this grief is choking her, and she needs to be free of the uncertainty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if there are any canon or fandom canon names for the Vulvalini. But I just finished “The Length and Breadth of Fury Road” by sacrificethemtothesquid and it was so amazing and I loved the characterization of one of the Vulvalini Mari, so I decided to use the same name in my fic. No disrespect was meant, Length and Breadth honestly is the best. https://archiveofourown.org/works/4031473/chapters/9064954


	3. When All You Can Do Is Ask

Two months after he left, Max returns to the Citadel. Furiosa hears it in passing from one of the black thumbs, and suddenly she’s struggling to breathe. She’s been living through limbo since he left, existing in the After of That Night for what seems like eternity. Her entire mental process regarding it has shut itself down to just Talk To Max, and now if he’s here, she’ll actually have to do that.

She’s scared she realizes, afraid of him and herself, afraid they won’t be able to breach the gulf that now spans between them. But she has to try. What had Max told her once? “If you can’t fix what’s broken, you’ll go insane.”

It’s later at dinner when she actually sees him. He meets her gaze for a quick second and then flits it away, scanning the room before returning once more to her. He looks like he wants to say something, but Furiosa has gotten a good sense over the course of their friendship of when to wait him out, and when to spare him the agony of talking. Right now it seems to be in the latter, so she speaks first.

“Hey Max. I’m glad you’re back.” She smiles at him, although it feels weak and thin even as it sits on her face. He nods and hums at the bowl of food he’s holding, shifting on his feet like he wants to move. He doesn’t say he’s glad to be back, that it’s good to see her, and she tries not to let that sting. Before it wouldn’t be unusual at all for Max not to verbalize those feelings, but the omission feels larger, more meaningful now.

He looks at her suddenly and she forces herself to hold her gaze. They stare at each other for a minute, the rest of the noisy dining hall fading away. Max doesn’t look at her with hatred or disgust, more trepidation and awkwardness. And Furiosa can work with that, can work with anything as long as he doesn’t consider her with contempt.

“Can we talk sometime? Alone?” The words are out almost before she realizes it, and she sees his eyes widen as he flicks them around the room. She’s bracing herself for his rejection, for him to say he doesn’t want to talk with her ever again, but instead he nods and starts walking towards to door, looking back to make sure she’s coming. Furiosa follows him, trying to decide if she’s relieved he will talk to her or terrified that this moment has come.

They walk in silence, making their way to a lookout post with no lookout. They eat for a while, or at least pretend to. The silence is thick with tension between them, Furiosa decides she needs to say something before it smothers her.

“Max?” He freezes and looks at her warily, like the skittish feral she first met. “I… want to say some things, and I want you to hear me out okay? Just… listen, and then you can, uh, say what you need to.” In another situation she’d laugh at the idea of Max interrupting her, something he’s never done the whole time she’s known him. But she has to get it all out now, otherwise it might just stay lodged in her chest, restricting her heart forever.

“I’m sorry-“ She can’t look at him she realizes, so she ducks her heard and talks to her half-eaten bowl of stew. “For what happened last time you were here. I thought we were in the same gear, but I just assumed, I didn’t think, and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…. I understand if you’re angry at me, or hate me and all, but I wish you wouldn’t because I really didn’t know, and that probably sounds crazy, but I just…” She looks at him and he’s staring right back, hanging on to her every word. “I’m still not sure where we went wrong, but I understand we did, and it’s my fault, and I’m sorry.”

There. Whatever else happens, he at least knows she is sorry (so _desperately_ sorry) and can decide what to do with it. Max clears his throat and says “’M sorry too, sorry I didn’t uh, tell you, wasn’t sure… how to…” He makes a vague gesture with his hand and the unspoken “say no” floats between them. “Not mad at you though. Like I said I didn’t… you didn’t know.” He hunches his shoulders and mumbles “Thought you might be mad at me.”

He looks guilty again and Furiosa’s heart squeezes at the sight. “No, I was never mad at you. Confused but not mad. I just didn’t understand how you could not want it, or how you could change your mind. It’s not your fault, I just didn’t know you could do that. Could change your mind.” He cocks his head at her, a silent plea to explain so she takes in a deep breath.

“I spoke with Mari about it. Just in general, I didn’t give her any details. I asked her why someone would not want to have sex after they’ve already said yes. She, um, explained some things to me, things I hadn’t realized about sex.”

“Yeah?” Max’s sounds wary, but he’s looking at her openly, which she takes as permission to continue.

“Yeah, about how you can have different kinds of sex and it can mean different things. Like how there’s, what’d she call it, intimate sex, and that’s different from regular sex, and how if you thought you were going to have one kind but end up having the other that can make you change your mind. Or if you were trusting your partner, and they did something that made you feel like you couldn’t trust them right you could change your mind. I didn’t know that, but she explained.”

Max is still looking at her quizzically and asks, “Regular sex?”

“Yeah, you know, what we did. Or what I did. The…” She can’t really describe it, it’s just what sex _is_ to her.

Max seems to get what she means because he says, “you mean like rough? Hard?”

“I guess. Isn’t that how most people do it?”

He’s looking at her with a new softness in his eyes, not pity, but more like understanding. “Mm, don’t know what most people do, but that’s… uh, ‘s not the only way, not the default way to do it. Have you ever, ah, done it _not_ that way?”

She doesn’t think she has, which is making her feel foolish and stupid. She shakes her head and Max lets out a cluck in the back of his throat. He moves and sits closer to her, until their arms are touching, and she can see the shine in his eyes.

Softly she asks, “Is that what it was? You wanted to have a different kind of sex? The intimate kind? And then when I didn’t you wanted to say no?” He’s looking at her neck now, not meeting her eyes, but he lets out a little head twitch that she interprets to be a nod.

She closes her eyes and leans their foreheads together. “I’m sorry Max, I didn’t know. I’ve just never thought about there being another way. I wish I’d known but…” There’s so much she wishes, and she guess Max does too, but they can’t go back now. They can only go forward and find their way together.

Max just hums and gently puts his hand on her neck. When she doesn’t move it he whispers “Me too.” They sit like this for a while in the fading sun, foreheads pressed together and simply breathing in each other’s breath. It’s a good silence now, peaceful and clear, much like Furiosa’s heart for the first time in two months.

Eventually Max moves his head and looks at her with concern, and that’s when she realizes there are tears streaming down her face. They’re good tears, tears of relief that Max forgives her, isn’t mad at her. She tries to tell him, but just smiles instead. He smiles back her, tenderly and with a warmth that makes her cry even more. He just holds her for a moment until she’s done, is just breathing in his arms. So softly that she can barely hear him he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

She nods and slowly he moves towards her face and presses soft dry kisses to her cheeks and eyelids, touching every part of her face with his lips as though trying to map its plains. Finally, he kisses her on the lips and Furiosa wants to start crying again at the softness and sweetness of it. She can feel the tenderness Max is pouring into this kiss even though it’s so light. She tries to deepen it out of instinct, but he pulls back and keeps it gentle.

The kiss for what seems like forever, slowly exploring each other’s mouths in a way that is the build up and destination all in one. She’s never kissed someone like this before, with such slowness and no urgency, with such affection and care. It makes her lightheaded and brings a glow to her chest. It’s different from the fire of arousal that kissing usually brings to her belly, but no less pleasant.

After a while Max pulls away with a soft hum. His eyes are dark, and his lips are deliciously red and puffy. Furiosa feels a tug of desire then, but she knows she can do without pursuing it. Now that she knows its possible to just _be_ with a person like this, she doesn’t feel the urgency of reaching some predetermined destination. So she just smiles at Max and feels her heart flutter when he smiles back.


	4. When Slow is as Fast as You Can Go

They make their way to Furiosa’s room after that, their half-eaten bowls of stew are left out for some lucky night watcher. Furiosa closes her door and turns back to Max, trying to stay calm, wanting to have no expectations placed on him. But he just smiles and kisses her again holding her face gently in his hands. She curls her arms around his shoulders, and they stay like that for a while, just kissing.

When they break away for a breath Furiosa blurts out “Do you want to have sex?” Her eyes widen with horror at what she just said, and she hurries to qualify. “I mean only if you want to. We don’t have to, this is fine, I like this, just kissing. But we can try it your way, the, ah, intimate way.”

Max doesn’t push away or reject her though, just leans in and presses soft kisses to her neck. “It’s not _my_ way, just a way you can. But yeah, we can try. Can go slow.” She feels him smile against her throat. “Can be intimate.”

She’s nervous suddenly, not sure if she can do it this way. She’s never had sex where it wasn’t a struggle for domination, an urgent press with force and energy. Max must sense her tense up because he wraps his arms around her in a hug. “’S okay. No rush. We can always stop.”

Furiosa’s still not used to this concept of changing your mind about what you want with sex, but having Max here, knowing that it’s him she’s doing it with makes it all fine. As long as he’s not uncomfortable she’ll be okay.

She nods, and they go back to kissing for a minute until Max breaks away to look at her while he pulls his shirt off. Her breath catches at the sudden sight of so much skin, and she starts to move her hand to his chest before pausing to look at him. “Can I touch you?” He nods, so she presses her hand to his chest, feeling his warmth seep through her.

She moves her hand leisurely, running it up to his collarbone and down to his navel, feeling his muscles twitch beneath her. She drags her thumb over his nipple, searching his face that this is okay. He only droops his eyelids but doesn’t stop her, so she does it again, and then to the other one. Furiosa runs her hand down his torso until it’s resting on his crotch. She can feel the body heat emanating from his genitals, but when she starts to press her hand in he takes a step back, removing himself from contact.

He smiles almost apologetically, as if sorry for what he did, but she just shakes her head. “It’s okay.” Rapidly she removes her prosthetic and her own top until she’s standing in front of him only in her trousers and boots. Max’s eyes are dark as he looks but makes no move to touch her. Furiosa reaches and grabs his hand with her own and slowly moves it to her breast. His hand is warm and firm, the calluses catching as he moves across her nipple. She gasps, but nods at him to keep going when he looks at her.

Carefully, Max places his other hand on her waist moves kiss the nap of her neck. It’s so slow and tender, the way he nips and sucks at her neck, the way his hands have started to wander all over her, rubbing soothing circles into her breasts, her torso, her back. It’s a tender touching unlike any she’s experienced before, and it makes her breathing unsteady. Her own hand comes around Max’s back and she runs her nails lightly down his spin. He shudders and jerks his hips forward, touching their crotches together so she can feel his arousal.

She wants to keep doing just this, Max holding her, kissing her. But her body’s starting to hum with excitement that isn’t exactly languid anymore. She’ll move at Max’s pace, she’s decided that, but it’s only honest if she lets him know that she wants to move on before she gets too desperate. So she twines her fingers in his hair and gently tugs his lips back up to her. He comes to her with a soft growl, and his kiss is more intense this time, although by no means as rough as she’s used to.

She moves her hips forward to press their lower bodies together and Max grinds into her groin, making her shudder. His hands are gripping her waist now and they rock against each other for a few breaths. Eventually Furiosa pulls her head to look at him. “Do you want to get undressed?”

Max nods and reluctantly releases her from his hold. Furiosa quickly moves to get of her boots and trousers, standing to look at Max quickly doing the same. She stares for a moment, looking at his cock in a way she hadn’t been able to before. He’s fully hard this time, and she can see how thick it is, jutting up between his legs. His foreskin is pulled back revealing the glistening head and she wants to reach out and stroke him. But he’s shifting on his feet and not meeting her gaze, so she figures he’s not comfortable with being looked over so unabashedly.

She doesn’t wait for it to get awkward, just grabs his hand and leads him to the bed, draping her arms around his back as he settles atop her. Max kisses her, working down her throat until he’s presses his lips to her breasts. She squeezes the back of his head to encourage him and he swipes his tongue over her areola. She arches into his mouth and grips his hair tighter, trying to urge him on. He doesn’t speed up though, just languidly sucks and kisses one breast and then the other.

She can feel his erection rub against her thigh, can hear his breath rough and fast in between each pull of his mouth. She’s wet now and her cunt is aching. But Max wants to go slow and so does she now, so she’ll let him fuck her at his own speed. But he needs to fuck her, if he still wants to that is, so she tells him as much. Max groans against her chest, nuzzling his face into the valley of her breast before sitting up.

“You sure?” he asks, voice rough and filled with lust. Furiosa’s sure and says so. However instead of grabbing himself and pushing into her, he scoots down her body until his face is hovering above her cunt. He glances at her and when he sees her confusion says “This okay? Thought it might be easier if you, ah, come first”

Furiosa just nods, can’t say anything for a minute because she’s overwhelmed with Max’s care for her. No ones ever gone down on her unprompted, not without her having to give them head or promise to do so. She doesn’t want to think about what that means so she just closes her eyes and lets Max take her apart slowly.

It’s crazy how he’s caring about her, checking in that she’s still okay with what he’s doing. She never done that with a partner, didn’t do that with Max last time they were here. It’s never felt necessary before. Maybe that’s part of what makes it intimate, caring as much for your partner’s pleasure and comfort as your own. It’s strange, but Furiosa likes how it makes her feel seen in a way she’s never felt before. She thinks she likes the weight of his thoughtfulness pressing down on her, making her feel cared for but not oppressed.

She knows she likes how he’s making her body feel, how his mouth is dragging her orgasm to the surface with every flick of his tongue. He’s sucking faster, harder, and yet still so sweetly. His hands are gently resting on her hipbones, keeping her steady, grounding her. She’s panting now, trying to wiggle under his mouth, trying to make him slow down… no wait, speed up, she needs him to speed up.

She must say as much because Max hums against her cunt and speeds up his ministrations. It’s too much and not enough at the same time. She’s so close, the heavy heat in her belly burning away all else. It keeps climbing until she comes, crashing down and spasming around Max. He works her through the aftershocks, keeps his mouth on her until she weakly pushes him back up to kiss her.

His lips are ruby red and glistening and she can taste herself on his mouth. She kisses slowly, trying to coordinate her mouth to deepen it, but she can’t quite get it together. That’s okay though, Max seems more than happy keep it soft. He kisses her cheek and murmurs into her hair. “Want me to again?”

Part of her does want him to, wants to come again. But mostly she’s content in this afterglow, happy to move onto the actual fucking. She shakes her head and whispers “Fuck me.”

He groans against her forehead and his hips lurch forward as though of their own accord. “Yeah, okay.” He pulls himself up onto his hand and seems to loom over her, except it doesn’t feel like looming when Max does it. Feels more like he’s surrounding her, keeping her safe. It’s odd and yet wonderful to have someone doing that for her.

Max reaches down and grabs his cock, guiding it between her lips. She flutters in anticipation and holds her breath as he pushes in. She’s so wet and loose, not fighting him at all and he’s able to slip all the way to the hilt in one smooth slide. They both groan at the sensation.

“Okay?” They say it in the same breath, staring at each other. Furiosa giggles and Max huffs out a laugh. “Yes” she says and wraps her legs around his hips. He drops to his forearms and starts moving unhurriedly. She expects him to go faster once he realizes he isn’t hurting her.

He doesn’t speed up towards his own release though. He’s not rutting as hard as he can, treating her body like an ends to his own means. Instead Max moves slowly, reverently between her legs, staring at her with such intensity and adoration she can barely meet his gaze. Staring at her as though she’s beautiful, special. It’s like he’s soaking up the sight of her, watching her face as his hips pump a slow rhythm. She wants to look away, escape the pressure of his eyes on her, but it’s Max, and she can handle anything he gives her.

So she looks at him, studies his face that’s so open right now. She tries to memorize the deep flush that settles across his face and chest, the way his lips are handing open and letting out breathy moans each time he bottoms out. She wants to always remember the way he tries to keep his eyes open, how badly he wants to look at her even when his body is telling him to close them and surrender to the sensation.

Furiosa starts to feel what could become another orgasm and moves her own hand down between her legs. Max watches her move and lets out a moan, his thrusts unconsciously picking up speed. She rubs her clit quickly, harshly because she doesn’t know of any other way to do it. They stay like this for a while, gasping quietly until Furiosa clenches around Max and comes again.

It’s a harsh yet sweet release, and it takes a minute to get herself together and she open her eyes. Max is still above her, looking at her with wonder as he moves faster. “Furi, your so…” He doesn’t finish his thought, instead fluttering his eyes closed and groaning as his rhythm start to falter. She moves her hand to cup the side of his face, relishing the way he leans into her.

“Come on Max, come for me” It’s nothing like the dirty talk she’d normally use to get her partner off, but Max seems to like it just fine. He looks like he’s in agony, delicious agony as his eyes screw shut and he pants out of his open mouth. His neck tendons are standing out, his whole body is jerking his hips towards completion. Then he stutters to a halt and she can feel his release inside her, can see his face as he comes. He’s quieter than most men she’s seen like this, almost like he doesn’t want to take up too much room. But Furiosa loves it, loves him.

He collapses onto her, breathing hard. She should feel smothered, but put a few moments while he’s panting she just feels cocooned. Eventually he shifts onto his side and slips out of her. She turns her head and kisses him, and he kisses back even though he really doesn’t have the oxygen to spare just yet.

They kiss languidly for a while, until Furiosa can’t ignore her thirst or the mess between her thighs. She stands up and gets a drink, then wipes herself down. She’s on her way back to bed and sees Max smiling dreamily at her. His face looks younger when he does that, and she finds herself smiling back. He’s beautiful like this she thinks, eyes soft in the afterglow, smiling easily as though it doesn’t cost him anything.

Furiosa hands him a cup of water and lies down beside him while he drinks. “Was that okay?” She’s pretty sure it was, because he’s here now, not staring into space, or pulling away from her as though she’s hurt him in a way neither can see. But she still wants to know, make sure that everything was yes, that he wanted this.

“Yeah, it was. Thanks.” He makes an abortive motion with his arm, and then looks at her cautiously. “Can I um, do you want to…” He looks at her, obviously hoping that she’ll gather his meaning without him having to verbalize, but when she doesn’t, he glances away and says softly, “You want to, hm, cuddle? Don’t have to ‘s fine.”

She smiles and gently takes his hand in hers, pulling him with her as she rolls to her side facing away from him. His arm is now draped across her chest and she scoots until her back presses against his front. He nuzzles her neck and sighs, curling closer to her and intertwining their fingers. Furiosa is starting to drift to sleep when Max raises his head a little to ask: “Was it okay for you? Like that?”

Furiosa thinks back to two months ago when she was so sure she knew how to have sex, and how certain that she knew what Max wanted as well. How utterly unaware she was that you could do it any other way, could _want_ it any other way. And after she’d realized her mistake how afraid she was that Max would never trust her again.

But he had come back, trusted her, forgiven her, and had the courage to show her something that required them to be vulnerable and open in a way she never had been. “Yes, it was good. Thank you.” She squeezes his hand and lets his gentle breathing and the soft patter of his kisses against her neck and shoulder lull her into a restful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally just wrote the first chapter which is the actual prompt. And then I thought, “I can’t leave it on that note, there needs to be resolution!” so I wrote the second and third chapter. And then I thought, “I can’t leave it on that note, there needs to be healing sex!” so I wrote the fourth chapter. If you stuck around to the end after the whole prompt was done in the first chapter, congratulations. I hope you liked this angsty, fluffy thing that I couldn’t stop writing. 
> 
> PSA: Obviously slow and sweet P in V missionary position is not the only way to experience intimacy with your partner. Consensual sex can be intimate no matter how it’s performed. Rereading the last chapter, I realized I might have placed too high an emphasis on this being how Furiosa and Max come to feel connected with each other. But I wanted to be clear that I’m not suggesting there’s one right way to have sex for intimacy.


End file.
